


Sleepy Reading

by Noppoh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 17:32:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11764893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noppoh/pseuds/Noppoh
Summary: Hermione falls asleep, using a surprised Draco as a cushion.





	Sleepy Reading

**Author's Note:**

> Everything except the story belongs to J.K. Rowling

She fell asleep with her head on his lap. Softly, he ran his hands through her hair. He couldn’t believe she trusted him enough to fall asleep like that. It humbled him, a feeling he was hardly used to.

Against all odds, they’d become friends. Tentatively and unwilling at first, of course. He smiled as he remembered the icy atmosphere the first time they were thrown together. Somehow, Blaise had been ensnared by Ginny. They were both rather vague about how exactly that happened. All they ever said was that they met during a case, with Ginny being an Auror and Blaise a Cursebreaker working for a private company. They downright refused to go into detail, claiming it was ‘classified’. Draco swore that, one day, he would get the entire story out of either of them.

Hermione moved her head in his lap, mumbling something. He realized he had stilled his fingers. Her content hum when he resumed his administrations was downright adorable. Yes, they had become friends. At first they had fought endlessly. Throwing insults at each other, arguing non-stop and eventually throwing curses at each other.

He had to admit, she had quite the arsenal of curses up her sleeve. Some were only barely legal. The one time she had, probably accidentally, thrown a curse that tipped the balance to the dark side, he, of course, had pointed it out to her. She had responded that throwing something that was barely dark at something so much darker could barely be called an offence.

In hindsight, he realized that he had loved their endless, though not so friendly, banter. It was filled with wit and sarcasm, and she was a formidable opponent. In the beginning he always won, of course, but he had to admit that, since they got to know each other better, she occasionally got one over on him. He couldn’t figure out if that should make him happy or angry.

At one point, Ginny and Blaise had had enough. They downright told them that, if they didn’t stop their _childish behaviour_ , they wouldn’t speak to them ever again. It had led to a reluctant truce for the sake of their friends. Instead of constantly fighting, they spend most of their time blatantly ignoring each other, behaving civilly if conversation couldn’t be avoided.

A giggle made him look up. The biggest surprise of Blaise and Ginny getting together was that Pansy had started dating Potter, of all people. When he thought it couldn’t get any weirder, Potter had coaxed a giggle out of Pansy. Pureblood women didn’t giggle, certainly not Pansy, it was unbecoming! Apparently Potter made her more carefree, and by now he had become used to the occasional outburst.

He didn’t begrudge Pansy her happiness. She had experienced her fair share of darkness and pain during and after the war, especially after, just like any Slytherin who had questionable alliances. The way Potter and her acted, however, was so sweet, he often felt like vomiting.

Draco returned his gaze to the woman asleep in his lap. His fingers strayed from her hair to touch her cheeks and that adorable little nose of hers. He quickly returned his fingers to the safety of her hair. It would do no good if she woke up with him caressing her face. She would probably blush deep red already, realising he had been petting her. He pulled on a curl and watched it bounce back.

The first change in their hostile behaviour towards one another had come when Hermione complained about a dead end she’d encountered in a research about runes. She worked at the research department of the Ministry, not quite an Unspeakable, not always Speakable either.

In this particular case, she had been working for the Aurors. A madman had been running around killing people, and leaving behind seemingly ancient and random runes. She was frustrated because she couldn’t find the meaning of the last rune the killer left behind. It seemed to be so ancient, it wasn’t in any of the books at the Ministry. Plus, she suspected it stemmed from an Asian language, something that wasn’t widely studied in Europe.

He remembered seeing a book on ancient, Asian runes at the Malfoy library, and offered to lend it to her. Hermione had stared at him, eyes wide with surprise and suspicion. She opened her mouth to say something - her glance at Ginny told him it was nothing good - but she eventually settled with raising an eyebrow and cocking her head. Her question had been easy to catch ‘Why?’.

“If it can help capture a serial killer, I can deal with parting from a book for some time.” Which, he knew, she would correctly interpret as ‘I can deal with having to lend _you_ a book.” Of course, so could everybody else present, but since they were acting civilly, they couldn’t comment on it. Hermione had huffed and reluctantly agreed. He knew she would have found a way to refuse if she hadn’t been at a dead end. Everybody, at the time, was anxious to find the killer.

Draco thought that that specific moment had opened the possibility of a better understanding of each other. Occasionally, Hermione would ask him if the Malfoy library held any texts on a specific subject. He couldn’t always help, but when he could, he lend her the requested books. He figured it was better that they be used than that they stayed unread in the library.

Hermione shifted and let out a sigh. He smiled and caught her book before it fell to the ground. She had been reading, as usual. At every party, Hermione started by mingling among their friends, chatting up and socialising. But at one point, each and every time, she found a book, sat down, and started reading.

At first he had found it profoundly odd. When he tried to taunt her, she never took the bait, simply telling him to bugger off. Her friends, however, seemed used to it and paid it no mind. They simply let her be. Sometimes, she would re-join the group later, sometimes she wouldn’t. By now he had grown used to it as well.

Today, she had grabbed a book and laid herself down on the couch. He saw her shifting, as if uncomfortable, and went to sit next to her to ask her why on earth she was staying on that bloody uncomfortable sofa. The words had stuck in his throat when she had immediately put her head in his lap, making a happy noise in her throat and continuing her reading. Not so long after, she had closed the book - with one finger on the page she was reading - lowered it to her chest, and promptly fell asleep.

Yes, they had become friends, but by now, he had fallen in love with none other than Hermione Granger. He wondered when it happened. It must have been a gradual thing, for he couldn’t remember any specific moment in time when it had ‘hit’ him, like the romantic stories always lead you to believe.

Perhaps it had happened when the general lending of books turned into coffees and lunches to discuss them. More likely, it had happened when she asked him if she could see his library. She asked it with such hope in her eyes, he wouldn’t have been able to refuse, even if he wanted to. So she flooed to the Manor one Thursday afternoon and he led her to the library.

Had it been the look in her eyes as she stepped into the massive room filled with books. The ‘Oh’ that escaped her lips? The childlike awe with which she wandered through between the shelves, caressing the spines of the books, occasionally picking one up and turning a couple of pages?

She seemed to have forgotten he was even there, or where she was. It was as if the library erased the memory of what had happened to her in that very Manor. A memory he had seen flashing in her eyes once she stepped out of the fireplace. Of course he made sure their walk through his home didn’t lead them anywhere near the rooms she had seen that day, but still. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she changed her mind upon arriving and turned to floo straight back to the Ministry.

He remembered how the silent admiration of his library made him take a look at it himself. Growing up with it, he never really appreciated it, up till that point. She made him look at things differently, challenged his point of view even if she didn’t do it on purpose. It was something he never wanted to lose; he felt that, this way, he saw a lot more of the world, not just his own, narrow perspective of it.

If he thought about it, there was a lot he owed to Hermione by now. Their friendship had grown due to proximity, since she eventually seemed to spend every single moment of her free time in the Malfoy library. His father was in Azkaban, so there was no risk of running into him, and the first meeting with his mother had gone fairly well. The women seemed to like each other.

After the war, the Malfoy business had taken a blow and was barely hanging on. Draco had finally managed to save it by venturing into the Muggle world; something he would have never done if Hermione hadn’t introduced him to it.

It wasn’t like she had dragged him into Muggle London and started pointing things out to him, no, it was her apartment. Her apartment was filled with Muggle appliances he hadn’t known when he first walked in there. To be honest, he always wondered how Muggles managed to survive without magic, but he never felt inclined to investigate.

Hermione had patiently explained everything, from the fridge, to the microwave, to the dishwasher. The first time she had turned on the tv, he had instantly blown it to pieces in fright. It was something she would never let him forget, mentioning it at the oddest times, simply to embarrass him. Their entire group had had a good laugh over it.

Draco let out a sigh and stopped studying her beautiful face in order to lean back against the couch and put his hands on his head. He loved her, he would do anything to protect her, but he doubted she felt the same. He didn’t want to risk changing their friendship by confessing to feelings she didn’t share.

“Draco.”

He started at her voice; he thought she was sound asleep.

“Don’t you dare stop caressing my hair.” Her voice sounded somewhat groggy.

Draco smiled. “You’re such a cat, Granger.”

“Hmm,” she responded, “I might even purr if you hurry up.”

He laughed and obliged. She sighed as soon as his fingers started their idle movements again, and he decided he wanted to hear more of those happy noises from her.

“You don’t mind?” he asked.

She opened her eyes and blinked up at him. “I rather fancy it,” she answered, before turning on her side, face towards him. “I could stay here forever.”

Draco felt his mouth go dry. Surely, those words meant nothing, just a sign of her being half asleep. “If you like it so much, I’ll stroke your hair for as long as you want,” he answered, catching himself before he finished that sentence with ‘my love’.

There was a moment of silence before he felt her take a deep breath and sit up, still facing him. She pulled her legs under her and put a hand on the side of the couch, her face hovering in front of his. He let his hands slide off her head and into his lap.

“As long as I want?” she asked. “I wonder what that means.”

He waited for the crooked smile that always developed when she was teasing him. It didn’t, however, and her eyes glinted with an emotion he couldn’t recognise. Not knowing what to say, he simply looked at her, his own tumultuous emotions hidden behind a neutral expression. Hermione reached out and touched his cheek. It took all his willpower not to respond to it.

“You’re hiding from me again,” she murmured, her voice tinged with sadness.

He pulled at one of her curls. “What are you talking about, Granger?” he deflected, avoiding her gaze.

“You haven’t answered my question.” It appeared she wasn’t easily distracted this time. “What does it mean when you say ‘as long as I want’?”

Draco stayed silent, his fingers still idly playing with the stray curl. What was she getting at? He still kept his emotions close to him, and she knew it. Why was she pushing?

“It means,” he finally answered, “that I will keep on doing it until you grow bored of me.”

A quick smile flashed over her face. “Keep doing what, Draco?”

“What do you want, Granger?” he snapped, his hand dropping back down.

“You know, you really should call me Hermione. I’ve been calling you Draco for ages.”

It was an old argument so he rolled his eyes at her. In his head he already called her Hermione, that had changed a long time ago. Calling her Granger, however, created a distance. One he was afraid to give up.

She gave him that crooked smile he had been looking for earlier. “What would your mother say? Rolling your eyes like that?”

“That’s low, Granger.”

“Hermione.”

“Gran-ger.”

“Hermione.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and he let out a sigh.

“Does it mean that much to you?”

She nodded enthusiastically. He could see she was quickly falling into one of her playful moods. It made him want to tickle her so he could hear her laugh and watch her squirm. Of course, that wasn’t a possibility.

“Alright,” he said, grimacing, “but only once.” He took a deep, exaggerated breath. “Hermione.”

The smile she gave him could light up a room. He couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. The need to kiss her was growing almost unbearable, but the way she was hovering in front of him, there was nowhere he could go.

“You said it!” she squealed happily, before abruptly leaning in and planting a kiss on his cheek. she leaned back and started blushing profoundly. “I, uhm,…”

He interrupted her by once more carding his fingers through her hair. “Hermione,” he repeated, just to see that smile again.

Her eyes softened and she looked down, avoiding his gaze, suddenly seeming shy. He cupped her cheek and gently turned her face so he could once more meet her eyes. Perhaps there was hope after all.

“You are so incredibly beautiful,” he whispered, before leaning in and finally kissing the girl he had fallen in love with.

Her lips were incredibly soft. There was a small pause, before she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back with an exuberance that made him smile. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her on his lap. There was not a chance in the world that he was ever letting her go again; she was kissing him back! Eventually, they had to come up for air.

“I didn’t dare hope,” Hermione whispered.

“Neither did I,” Draco responded, giving her another small peck on the lips before resting his forehead against hers.

Yes, against all odds, they’d become friends. And now, they were lovers. If Draco had his way, it wouldn’t take them anywhere near as long to become husband and wife. She was it, without a doubt.

 


End file.
